


the curious case of a useless girl

by triskadancer



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Blood, Emotional Repression, Explicit Consent, F/F, Handcuffs, Panic Attacks, Serial Killers, Sexual Violence, mystery novel otp, the following are all Syo tags, touko wrote this title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triskadancer/pseuds/triskadancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never thought cold steel around her wrists could make her feel so safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. steel

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate path for chapter 2. This was a crackship idea that I ended up really liking and then suddenly I had written 5k words. The violence warning is for a bloody nightmare featuring everyone's favorite serial killer.
> 
> Minor AU adjustment: Kirigiri's talent is known from the get-go. Come on, it's really obvious.

The knock was timid and hesitant, barely audible, but Touko was sure it would get a response. Everyone was always hyper alert at night even without another horrific murder weighing on their minds. _Poor Fujisaki._ She swallowed nervously, shifting from one foot to the other, considering the possibility that this was, in fact, an _awful_ idea, and that maybe she should run off back to her room-- but the door finally clicked open and put an end to that.

“Fukawa? What is it?” The detective asked, eyebrows rising slightly as she regarded the unexpected guest.

“C-C-Can I... Can I come in, K-Kirigiri?” Her voice was a strained whisper, eyes constantly darting as she scanned the hall for others.

“What is this about?” She asked again, dubious. Touko surely didn't seem very threatening, but then again, neither had Maizono, had she?

“I... I j-just... I need to t-talk to you. It... It's r-really important.” She was _trembling,_ despite all her efforts to suppress it. “P-Please,” she finished, forcing the courtesy even though it tasted bitter and fake on her tongue.

Well, that was that. She stepped back, wordlessly opening the door. Touko skittered in immediately, making a beeline to the middle of the room-- but her haphazard plan had ended here, and she glanced around helplessly. Kirigiri sat smoothly on the desk chair, and gestured to the bed, where Touko hesitantly took a seat.

“What is it you need?” Kirigiri asked once more. Touko wilted under her gaze, ducking her head and avoiding her eyes as she fidgeted. Being caught under the detective's sharp eye was something she'd wanted to _avoid_ til now. Several times, she opened her mouth and shut it again, her vast vocabulary failing her in this ridiculous situation. Kirigiri sat in silence, watching her calmly. It was probably exactly like waiting out a suspect, she thought fairly bitterly.

Finally the pressure was too much, and the author spat a flurry of words-- “D-do you have a pair of handcuffs?”

Kirigiri blinked. Of all the things she had guessed, obviously that was not one of them. “I'm going to have to ask why.”

Touko visibly cringed, hands clutching at her skirt. “I need to b-borrow them.”

“Why?”

“I-- I c-can't--”

“Then I can't lend them to you.” Her tone was firm, but not unkind. Touko looked up desperately, but before she could speak, Kirigiri held up one hand. “I don't think you'll misuse them, but they could be misplaced or stolen, and someone else might. If something happened--”

“B-but this is to _s-stop_ something happening!” She regretted the outburst almost immediately, covering her mouth with one hand, while Kirigiri was now more than interested.

“Could you please elaborate? Do you have some idea who the perpetrator is? There is no benefit to killing again, so it isn't necessary they be restrained until the trial, but--”

“It was me.”

The tiny whisper, so heavy with guilt and nearly inaudible, was enough to completely derail Kirigiri's train of thought. She stared uncomprehending at Touko, who was doing her best to curl up into a ball. It took a while to speak again.

“You?”

“I...” Trembling hands and choked sniffles muffled her already quiet voice. “I'm... I'm G-Genocider Syo. I k-k-killed Fujisaki. I-It was m-m-me.” She was shaking, eyes shut tightly, forcing herself through each word. “I n-need to be l-locked up... s-so I can't hurt anyone else. I c-can't just shut myself in my r-room...”

Kirigiri stared hard at the timid author, sizing her up like a boxer would size up an opponent. There was no reason, no benefit, to lie about this. What kind of idiot would admit to the murder of a student in this place, to _Kyouko Kirigiri_ of all people?

“You have a split personality.” A statement, not a question. Touko flinched at her voice, almost expecting a blow. Slowly, she nodded.

“We don't share m-memories. But I know... I know h-how it... how s-she k-kills... wh-when I s-saw Fujisaki... it could only have been m-me.” Touko's tremulous voice took on a hard-edged _twist,_ vicious and bitter. “N-no one else could have done something so h-horrible. No one else is as d-disgusting. I don't want to h-hurt anyone else...”

Slowly, carefully, Kirigiri stood, taking the few short steps to the bed. Touko didn't notice, wrapped up in her own hatred-- until Kirigiri gently grasped her wrist, and then her head snapped up, eyes wide in fear and desperation. The detective calmly met her gaze, closing one cuff deliberately around the author's wrist, and the other around the bedpost. Touko started to speak, confused, but Kirigiri beat her to it, in the same even and factual tone as always.

“If you need to be restrained until the class trial, you can't do so alone. I am assuming you do not want anyone else to know about this.”

Touko gaped for a moment before managing a nod.

“If I left you in your room, I would have to check on you there, and the others would become suspicious. Having you stay here is the best option for your privacy.”

“B-but...” Touko spoke in a hoarse whisper, disbelief etched across her face. “I'm... I'm a m-murderer. A s-serial killer. Y-you're letting me stay with you?”

“You are not a serial killer.” Kirigiri said, as though it were completely obvious. “Genocider Syo is a serial killer. You unfortunately share a body, but you are safely restrained. Until I get to the bottom of this case, you'll have to be confined here.”

Now it was Touko's turn to blink owlishly in confusion. “The... what? I... I t-told you, it was--”

Kirigiri shook her head briskly, retaking her spot at the desk. “I am not completely convinced Genocider Syo committed this murder. It's certainly a compelling tale, but there are some troubling discrepancies I wish to look into before making up my mind on a verdict. Of course, again,” she paused to shoot another firm glance Touko's way, “for safety's sake you must be held here until the trial tomorrow.”

The author gave a meek nod in reply. It was far, far more generous than she'd expected.

 

///                                                ///

 

Though she'd had the best of intentions, it was dreadfully boring being cooped up in Kirigiri's room all day long. The detective had brought her food and occasional updates on the situation at hand-- investigation still underway, students tense, nothing new-- and finally returned to review the case before the trial. Kirigiri sat cross-legged, poring over notes and scraps of evidence. Once in a while Touko would sneak a peek, curiously studying the detective's neat handwriting, the notes Naegi had scrawled and shared with her.

And then she caught a glimpse of a photo.

She flinched back immediately, turning her face away and shutting her eyes tightly as her head swam and her stomach turned. There was so much _blood_ \-- like a mad artist had thrown cans of it all over the walls. A low whine escaped her as she curled up, head on her knees, trying to ride out the awful dizzy spinning. She _couldn't_ lose control. She _wouldn't._ She may have been a useless, dangerous menace but the least she could do was keep _calm._ Kirigiri was trying to prove her innocence. The last thing she needed was Syo making an appearance.

She couldn't help flinching and letting out a gasp when she felt a gentle touch on her back.

“Fukawa?”

“D-don't.” She hissed, cringing away. “Don't t-touch me.” The words came more harshly than she meant them, sharpened by years of practice. Kirigiri withdrew her hand without comment, instead clasping them neatly in her lap, but Touko could feel her eyes still on her, she could always feel it when people stared. “W-what?” She snapped, bristling.

“I did not mean to offend you. I apologize.” Again with that infuriating monotone. Kirigiri must be mocking her, she had to be. How could she still possibly be so courteous to someone like her?

“Don't p-patronize me!” Touko snapped, glaring, “How l-long are you going to keep up this-- this _farce_?”

Kirigiri blinked those annoyingly bright eyes of hers, patiently waiting for her to elaborate. She was so ridiculously mellow it made Touko want to scream.

“I _k-killed_ someone-- I killed _lots_ of p-people-- h-how can you just _s-sit_ there, studying it, r-right _next_ to me? H-How can you act like everything is _f-fine_ ? T-This is obviously s-some kind of trick-- y-you can't possibly want to help s-someone like me, I'm _d-disgusting_ \--”

Another wave of dizziness cut her ranting short, forcing her to hold her head and grit her teeth as she prayed for it to pass. Kirigiri had waited, maddeningly calm, and finally she spoke up again.

“You haven't killed anyone.” Touko gave another irritated growl, but Kirigiri continued undaunted. “ _You_ , Touko Fukawa, have not killed a single person. In fact, you have given up an extremely dangerous secret and willingly subjected yourself to confinement and restraint in the interest of protecting others. That is noble and selfless.”

Touko had to take a long moment to digest that. She'd never, ever been praised before, even as deadpan as Kirigiri was. “B-But... Fujisaki...”

“The more I investigate, the less I believe that Genocider Syo is responsible for Fujisaki's death. I believe someone is attempting to frame you for this crime in order to graduate. I intend to prove your innocence during the trial."

“...Why are you d-doing this for me?”

Kirigiri quirked an eyebrow in that infuriatingly familiar way, as though the answer was obvious.

“You are my friend, aren't you?”

Touko snorted. “N-No.”

“Then I'm doing it for the truth.”

Touko couldn't argue on that point, and they sat in silence until Monokuma's horribly cheerful voice announced that it was time.

///                                                ///

 

The trial was even more horrible than she had expected it to be, and Touko had never been an optimist.

Kirigiri had told her not to say anything. That she would try to keep her involvement hidden if she could. And almost as soon as it began, Togami had turned those beautiful cold eyes on her, naming her the killer. And all she could do was stare and stammer, feeling like she'd just had her heart torn out of her worthless chest, and she couldn't stop herself from crying out,

“Y-You promised you wouldn't _t-tell_ anyone!”

And the _looks_ that followed, oh, god, they were almost worse than Togami, a whole room, a whole circle of eyes, staring right at _her,_ right at the hideous monster in their midst. 'Split personality.' 'Serial killer.' 'Genocider Syo.' And they all gasped, and gaped, and stared, like she was an animal on display, because she was, wasn't she, just like she always was. Even this school of insanity was the same as all the others.

“You s-swore! I can't believe you lied!” But she should have, of course. It was always the same. Every time she tried to open up something horrible happened. Boys were made to break her heart. She tried and failed to hold back a sob, gripping the railing white-knuckled, forcing herself to stay upright despite her trembling knees. Kirigiri and Naegi and even Asahina were talking, shouting, trying to defend her (ha ha), demanding proof, and Togami gladly provided, sliding knife after knife into her back.

Her head started to pound and spin, her heart was hammering out of her chest, she couldn't breathe right. She was going to vomit. She was going to pass out. She felt like she was dying. She hoped she was dying. At least if she died right here and now they wouldn't _see._ She doubled over, clutching her head, trying in vain to silence the static, please, _please,_ just stay calm and breathe breathe _breathe_ she couldn't _stop_ her breathing was high and shallow and much too fast. Togami told her it was her own worthless fault, because it was, he was right, she shouldn't have trusted anyone, she wouldn't be saved, she wasn't worth being saved, she would never ever ever be saved.

She heard a desperate screech escape her and a yelp of surprise from the others and the static crashed in her ears like a tidal wave and everything went black.

 

///                                                ///

 

Touko sat on her bed.

Touko sat on _their_ bed.

Touko looked at the scissors.

She hadn't killed Fujisaki. _She_ hadn't killed Fujisaki.

She always said, _she's not me, I'm not her,_ but she was, _she was,_ she was inside her and part of her and tangled up in her brain, she couldn't _remember_ but it was her hands that sliced open those boys and her mouth that laughed and her thighs that bore those scars and in the end it was her who killed them because she was too _stupid_ to find a solution.

Touko stared at the scissors.

She had tried to hide them, or throw them away, but that never worked for long, and she'd started waking up further and further from home, and the murders had gotten more and more extravagant, and she'd found those awful notes written in her handwriting but not quite, _can't we all just get along?_ and _I won't tell if you don't_ and _didn't you ever learn to share?_ and more scissors kept showing up anyway so she'd stopped, she'd stopped trying because she was _worthless._

Touko picked up the scissors.

She should just end it. She could drag these blades down her arms and let herself bleed out. What good was a monster? Someone was probably going to kill her next anyway. No one liked her, no one cared about her, and now that they knew she was a murderer, she was sure to be targeted. She should just kill herself first and save everyone the trouble, no one should have to die just for taking out the trash. She should-- she should-- her grip tightened on the cold steel and she swallowed hard. She was such a _coward._

But the least she could do was thank Kirigiri first.

 

///                                                ///

 

The door opened soon after her tentative knock, but it still felt like an eternity standing in that dark hall with those scissors so heavy on her mind.

“Fukawa.” A pajama-clad Kirigiri regarded her coolly, though not moreso than usual. The author cringed, her hands clasped tightly around her arms, almost imperceptibly shivering. She'd been expecting more hostility. They'd all met _her,_ after all. They wouldn't want anything to do with her now.

“I... uh, I j-just wanted to say th-thank you.” Her voice was a near whisper, as though every word was painful. “F-For everything. I know you don't want to s-see me, I'm s-sorry. I'll g-go. I just... I'm s-sorry.”

“Come in.” Kirigiri stepped back, holding the door open, but Touko just blinked at her, standing uncertainly in the hall. This wasn't going to plan.

“...Y-You... you're inviting m-me in?”

“I thought that was evident,” Kirigiri replied dryly, and Touko chewed nervously on her thumb.

“But... y-you... you met _her,_ r-right? She's... I'm... d-dangerous.” She shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding Kirigiri's piercing gaze. “I didn't want to b-bother you, I just--”

“I'm sure now more than ever that she isn't you. Please come in.”

She couldn't help but groan, closing her eyes momentarily in frustration, feeling trapped. “That's n-not the _point--_ even if I d-didn't have _her,_ even if it was j-just _me-- why,_ why would y-you want to spend time with _me?_ I'm nobody, I'm w-worthless, just ugly trash--”

“Fukawa,” Kirigiri spoke again, quietly as always, but she couldn't stop.

“I'll n-never even live through this, e-everyone hates me and they _s-should,_ of anyone I should be the one to d-die _\--”_

“ _Stop.”_ Kirigiri grabbed her by the shoulders, shocked her into silence, stared with those implacable eyes. “I don't hate you.”

“You-- you s-stupid, naïve idiot-- you c-can't want to be my friend, you _can't,_ you're too s-smart for this obvious l-lie!” She knew she was barely making sense, it was shameful for the literary girl to be this incoherent, but the words kept falling out of her mouth. Kirigiri stood, listening, looking more awkward and conflicted as she ever had. She was a force of nature in court but didn't know any way to deal with her. Like everyone else. It almost made her laugh.

But then Kirigiri pulled her into a wordless hug, and Touko cried into her shoulder instead.

“You can stay with me again.” Touko felt herself tense and then relax- she hadn't even realized that's what she'd wanted. “Please don't hurt yourself,” she added, more quietly, because Kirigiri knew everything, of course, of course she would have been able to tell. She couldn't hold back another sob, feeling hot and sick and ashamed, trembling in her arms.

“I-I'm so s-sorry, Kirigiri--”

“It's all right.” Her voice was cool and calm and reassuring like gentle rain, and for once it drowned out the static. Touko allowed herself to be drawn into the room, sitting mechanically when Kirigiri took her to the bed. Kirigiri sat beside her, legs tucked up under her, and carefully untwined her braids. Touko was too exhausted to protest, or flinch away, or do much of anything, and Kirigiri didn't speak. She took a brush and ran it gently through her hair, pulling loose the snarls, smoothing down the loose ends, and it was so soft and rhythmic and oddly soothing that she found her eyes closing and her head bowing without a fight.

“No one's e-ever done this for me before,” she mumbled, feeling the curious drag of leather-clad fingers through her hair.

“Me either,” Kirigiri replied coolly, and she felt vaguely surprised. “Brushing my own hair helps to calm me down. It was worth trying.”

“I d-didn't realize you were ever not calm,” Touko admitted, and couldn't stop herself, “you always c-come off like such an ice queen,” and even as the words were coming out of her mouth she was cursing herself, even though Kirigiri was being _nice_ to her, she had to go and say something awful. Kirigiri was quiet for a long while.

“In times of stress and danger, it is often safer to hide one's true feelings.” Distant, implacable. “Just as you do,” she added, softer, and Touko was beginning to realize her wall of thorns was nothing to her.

“Kirigiri--”

“Kyouko is fine.”

“Kyouko...” She tested it, tasted the name on her tongue. “Th-Then... you can call me T-Touko. I-If you want,” she rushed to amend, feeling stupid for _assuming_ that Kirigiri would really want to be that familiar with someone like her, but Kirigiri didn't laugh or scoff, just pulled the brush down in another careful stroke. And another, and another, until her anxiety bled away and all the exhaustion of the day caught up to her. She caught herself swaying, eyes fluttering blearily open as Kirigiri spoke again.

“You should sleep. You've had a very taxing day.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, deferential, bracing to push herself up from the bed (a feat that now seemed impossible, as lethargic as she was)-- but she froze as one gloved hand settled over hers.

“I didn't say you had to leave.”

It took her a moment to process; her thoughts felt like they were slogging through mud. “A-Are... are you s-s-sure?”

“I am.” Kirigiri's face was still and calm, the porcelain mask it always was, but Touko caught a flicker of worry in her eyes. “I do not think you should be alone.”

 _But I'm never alone_ was her first thought and it was so unpleasant she had to gulp down a weary whine. She nodded. Kirigiri seemed to relax, ever so slightly. She slid under the covers and Touko scooted awkwardly in beside her and lay very still, trying not to exist too obnoxiously.

Kirigiri didn't seem half as nervous. Touko listened to her breathe, soft and even, and eventually found herself lulled to sleep.

///                                                ///

 

 _feral grin wide and sharp and_ _**joyous** _ _tongue lolling and flicking to taste the air like a snake the delicious familiar scent of copper and fear and she laughed loud and wild and he screamed screamed_ _**screamed** _ _she adored how they always screamed so strong at first trailing off to painful little whimpers and wet wheezing sounds_ _**so lovely** _ _choking on their own blood and terror cold metal handles pressed sweetly against her palms as she_ _**carefully lovingly precisely** _ _shoved her pretty blades through his pretty wrists and felt him_ _**twitch** _ _and squirm gorgeous butterfly boy pinned dying so_ _**beautifully** _ _and she dipped her fingers into his smiling_ _**gaping** _ _throat and oh his blood so thick and hot and_ _**slick** _ _between her fingers as she left her signature--_

 

\--Touko woke with a sick lurch, clapping her hands over her mouth.

She tried to stay still, she knew she wasn't in her own room alone, she didn't want to disturb Kirigiri. But she couldn't stop the violent shaking, she couldn't stop the tears and the muffled sobs, no matter how hard she tried. And as always she tore into herself mercilessly, ripping herself apart with weaponized words.

_Stupid, useless, foul, you can't even sleep without being a burden, you deserve all this, the least you could do is bear it gracefully, idiot cow_

But then--

Her eyes shot open as she felt arms wrap around her from behind. Kirigiri's touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as she pulled the quivering author against her. It almost felt suffocating; she wasn't used to being touched at all. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had been in this close contact with her. But even so she didn't squirm away, because she also couldn't remember the last time her shuddering had tapered off so quickly, or the last time her relentless inner monologue had ceased.

“Ki-- Uh-- Kyouko... I'm sorry,” she mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“It's all right.”

“N-No it isn't,” she continued, irritably scrubbing her eyes with her sleeve. “I'm not a _child,_ I s-should be capable of sleeping through the n-night.”

“Emotional stress can cause sleep disturbances,” Kirigiri replied, as though she were reading out of a textbook, as though she didn't have these unspeakable dreams every night, and Touko wanted to scream.

“You don't _understand,”_ she hissed, whipping around to face her, “you d-don't know what it's like, y-you've probably a-always been p-pretty and talented-- _you_ don't know what it's like having your w-writing stolen just to _laugh_ at, or having razorblades s-slipped into your folders, or being l-listed as some _a-awful_ name in the _yearbook--_ knowing there's n-no one that would ever be your f-friend--”

“And even--” she felt like she might choke, “e-even if there _w-was,_ you _can't,_ b-because you've got a _m-murderer_ inside you.” She spat the last few words, venom dripping from her voice, aimed more at herself than the detective by this point. “But you don't d-deserve it anyway, because you're worthless trash--”

Kirigiri kissed her.

And now she was sure, she was _sure_ that all her books were garbage and she was a hack because this was _nothing_ like anything she'd written. It was so warm and so sweet and so gentle and not at all something she deserved. But Kirigiri gave it to her anyway. Touko froze, unable to even breathe, her poisonous train of thought completely derailed and forgotten as she tried to cope with this new reality.

Kirigiri traced a path of kisses along her jaw, down her delicate throat, into the crook of her neck. She paused there, exchanging kisses and licks and Touko felt an odd twist in her stomach and couldn't help but shiver. But then Kirigiri _nipped_ and Touko yipped and jerked away, reflexively covering her throat with one hand.

“I'm sorry,” Kirigiri said immediately, a hint of chagrin in her usually unflappable voice.

“N-no, it... it's...” She wanted to say _it's fine,_ but it wasn't fine, she _hated_ being marked without permission. “Just... n-not that,” she stammered, feeling stupid. “Not n-now. The-- th-the biting. D-Don't do that.”

Kirigiri planted another soft, apologetic kiss on the spot, and Touko begrudgingly eased back down. Gloved hands brushed across her cheek, combed gently through her hair, pulled her closer. Touko had started out stiff and uncertain, hesitantly accepting the advances, but slowly found herself leaning into Kirigiri's touch, seeking out her attention. The room seemed warmer and her already poor vision swam when Kirigiri slipped her hands under her shirt, roaming across her stomach, up and up--

Touko couldn't help a tiny, needy whine, arching into Kirigiri's touch as she gently cupped her breasts, stroked down her sides, clutched at her hips. The touch of cool leather against her skin made her shiver as Kirigiri hooked her fingers under her waistband-- then paused, glancing up at her face, and she felt a dull twinge of anxiety, a sick twist when she thought of the neat red lines tallied up on her thighs.

The silence stretched on long enough to become oppressive, and Kirigiri looked carefully into her eyes, searching for answers. “We can stop.” She said it as neutrally as anything else, without a hint of resentment or accusation. Touko swallowed nervously, fidgeting aimlessly with her hands, trying to stitch the words together into something coherent.

“I-- I h-have... I have scars,” she finally whispered, at a loss to explain, the implication hanging heavily in the air. There was a pause.

“So do I,” Kirigiri murmured, gaze flickering briefly to her gloves, and Touko finally understood why the stupid things were still on. “We can stop,” she repeated, softly.

Eventually she managed to speak again, “N-no, I... I w-want to,” and she could _swear_ Kirigiri's neutral stare doubled in intensity. Immediately the detective stripped them both with mechanical precision (how she handled tiny buttons so well with gloves on, Touko would never know). As soon as she could Kirigiri pressed herself against Touko's skin, looping her arms around her, kissing her again. Touko set her trembling hands on Kirigiri's shoulders, hesitant at first, then pulling insistently, keeping her as close as possible. Kirigiri seemed to shiver, parting Touko's lips with her tongue; ludicrously, dizzily, she thought she finally understood the expression 'still waters run deep.' Touko had to pull back gasping.

“W-wait,” she whispered, “wait, p-please, I--” It wasn't static, it wasn't unbearable pressure and pain, but her head still felt a bit like it was spinning through fog and she started to hear the panicked edge come back into her voice, “I-- wh-what if I-- what if s-she--” She gulped, heavily, feeling too sick to even say it, not during a time like this.

Kirigiri gazed at her a moment, unreadable, before leaning away. She slid open the desk drawer and produced the handcuffs, holding them close so Touko could make out more than just a smudge of gleaming metal in the dark. One eyebrow quirked up inquisitively.

Touko winced. Of all the many scenarios she'd dreamed up for her first sexual encounter, she had not included being restrained against a potential serial murderer personality shift in any of them. Real life did so often fall short of fantasy. But even so, she hesitantly nodded her assent, flicking her tongue nervously over her lips as she offered her arms out.

Kirigiri snapped the cuffs around her wrists, then leaned to fetch her tie off the back of the chair. She looped the tie around the cuff's chain, then secured it to the bedpost, pulling Touko's arms up above her head. “Comfortable?” She asked, testing the knot.

She was surprised to answer “Yes,” squirming a little as she tested the position. No undue stress. Kirigiri seemed satisfied enough to get back to business, sweeping one leg over to straddle Touko's hips. She leaned in close and captured Touko's lips in hers again. Just like her eyes, her kisses were deep and smoldering, and Touko thought her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She didn't know what to do at all. She'd thought, vainly, that all her fantasizing and writing would somehow be equivalent to experience.

To her credit, Kirigiri was extraordinarily gentle, her touches just the right mix of featherlight stroking and insistent clutching. She lay a trail of kisses down her skin, from her throat to between her breasts and down along her belly, and the further she went the faster Touko breathed, feeling useless and stupid and completely light-headed. And when Kirigiri started kissing her hips, her thighs-- Touko felt like she stopped breathing entirely, quivering with nervous anticipation.

And then Kirigiri very slowly, purposefully, dragged her tongue along her core and Touko could only make a sort of strangled gasping sound, the cuffs biting into her wrists as she jerked. There was an agonizing pause, and it took her some time to realize why. “I'm f-fine,” she rasped, licking dry lips, swallowing heavily, “It's okay.” Kirigiri gave a hum of assent, and _oh_ she did it again. And again, and again, and before she knew it there were little shivers running down her spine and a pool of heat in her stomach. Kirigiri was true to form, focused and precise. Touko couldn't stop another mortifying noise, this time a breathy mewl, and as soon as it was out of her mouth she regretted it. She felt so stupid, this was embarrassing and _filthy_ and there was no way she could cover her face with these cuffs _(cuffs!)_ on, and--

 _“ Oh,”_ This time it was a real moan, head tilted back, hips rolling forward helplessly as Kirigiri lapped more purposefully and sent sparks through her bones. “K-Kyouko, g-god--” Kirigiri purred encouragingly, running her hands smoothly up and down her thighs, and Touko shuddered and whined. For the first time she couldn't think in words, none of them came close. _Electrifying_ didn't quite capture the incredible sensation of those cool leather gloves clutching at her. _Melodious_ didn't suit how sweetly Kirigiri moaned, how the sound thrummed in her ears and made her heart ache and rush. _Exquisite_ couldn't possibly express how Kirigiri's tongue felt on her, soft and warm and smooth and rough and unlike anything she could name.

She felt herself tensing, muscles coiling like springs, hands clawing uselessly at the air. “K-Kyouko,” she whimpered, almost pleadingly, and Kirigiri purred and pulled her closer and her tongue _fluttered_ against her-- her head snapped back and another shuddering moan was torn from her throat. “Kyouko-- o-oh-- _please--”_ She heard herself let out another keening cry, and it felt almost like something breaking, overflow--

Kirigiri slowed, and she only barely managed a last tiny whining moan, squirming weakly away from the now overwhelming touch. She'd forgotten to be afraid, thoughts muted by the buzz of adrenaline and relief pleasantly skimming across her synapses. Kirigiri slid up and kissed her so softly, and Touko could only lie panting for a moment, barely registering the click of the cuffs unlocking. She felt tears running down her cheeks and for once couldn't immediately understand why. Kirigiri pulled back, expression one of concern as she brushed one aside. “Touko?”

She smiled-- _smiled,_ and just barely managed to pull boneless arms from the cuffs and wrap them instead around Kirigiri. And, amazingly, she felt a tiny breathless laugh bubble up and escape her as she clung to her and felt Kirigiri start to softly stroke her hair.

“I'm okay,” she whispered, and meant it.

 


	2. drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She couldn't understand why Kirigiri would bother with someone like her.

She woke slowly to the muted sound of running water. For a moment she was disoriented-- though their rooms were identical, her books and papers had already started to haphazardly overtake all available surfaces in hers. This room was extraordinarily orderly, almost clinically neat and devoid of personal effects. It took her a moment to remember-- she had to cover her face with the blankets immediately, hiding her flush from no one.

She was in Kirigiri's room. Because they'd slept together. _Slept_ together. _With handcuffs._ She'd only just woken up and already her heart was pounding in her ears and her breath was coming shallowly. Not that she regretted it-- god, not at all, she was so kind and sweet and _very good--_ she whined to herself, pressing her hands into her face as though she could smother the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't even _think_ about it without getting hopelessly embarrassed.

She jumped when the bathroom door swung open, revealing a towel-clad Kirigiri, idly running a comb through her hair. She glanced over at Touko, who was sitting with the blankets clutched up to her nose. “There's still time to shower before breakfast,” she supplied helpfully. Touko just stared at her. Kirigiri waited a moment before continuing. “Is there something wrong?”

“I--” Her eyes darted down, then to her clothes strewn across the floor, then towards the bathroom, then back to Kirigiri's face. “C-could-- could you--”

Kirigiri blinked, taking a moment to process Touko's non-communication, before giving a tiny smile and turning away politely. She was very grateful the detective was a genius as she scrambled past her to the shower, blushing furiously.

By the time she'd finished, Kirigiri had already gone. She dressed hurriedly and trotted down the hall-- smoothing out her skirts, adjusting her glasses, fiddling with her hair endlessly. She had to take a moment to breathe before she could enter the cafeteria, as usual-- she had to work herself up to it, after so many years of hiding in the library or nurse's office while she ate.

She'd almost started walking automatically to her usual spot (in the corner at the side table, away from everyone) until she realized the seat next to Kirigiri was available. Would it draw too much attention for her to move there now? After everyone had established their spots? Would it be in bad taste? It had been Sayaka's seat-- what if they thought she was desecrating her memory? What would they all say? Someone would comment on her trying to sit with the group, they all knew she didn't belong, they probably all hated her anyway, she hadn't been invited--

“Why are you standing in the doorway? Move,” Togami spat, voice cold and clipped as usual. She jumped up with a squeak, whirling to face him, an automatically apologetic “T-T-Togami!” slipping past her lips (and she immediately felt Kirigiri's stare on her back). “I-I'm sorry, I j-just--" 

“I wasn't actually interested in an answer, it was obviously a rhetorical question. I expected the literary girl to have more sense,” he sniffed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I won't repeat myself.”

She swallowed, turned, and crept away, wordlessly taking the seat beside Kirigiri, eyes locked firmly on her shoes. There was a long pause, with some shuffling and sidelong glances between the other students.

“Fukawa,” Naegi finally said, trying to smile, “it's... nice to see you again?”

It took her a moment to realize what he was trying to say, and she jerked her head up to glare as fiercely as she could.

“W-what, you mean instead of _her?”_ She snapped, twisting her skirt into knots. “You can just s-say it. You'd r-rather the usual hideous f-freak instead of the m-murderous one, r-right?”

Naegi winced, running one hand through his unruly hair. “That's not what I--”

“Oh, _please,_ s-spare me, I know y-you're all th-thinking it,” she groused, crossing her arms.

“Fukawa, really, it's not like that,” Asahina tried next, hands up peaceably. “Listen-- we're all still just waking up and hungry and grumpy, yeah?” She pushed a plate laden with pastries towards Touko, offering a hesitant smile along with it. “D'you want one?”

Touko grumbled something about getting fat under her breath, but plucked one for herself anyway, and nibbled at it as normal conversation slowly resumed around her. It was the usual drivel- another floor would have opened up today, and they were going to split up and explore it. They separated into their usual groups, drifting off bit by bit.

“Do you want to come with us today, Fukawa?” Asahina asked politely, her usual amiable smile in place. “You can come too, Kirigiri!”

Touko couldn't find words at first, eyes widening as she searched for an answer, but Kirigiri beat her to it. “Thank you, no. I'll be going alone.”

“Aw, again?” Asahina shrugged casually. “Well, let us know what you find!” Kirigiri gave a curt nod and headed out, leaving Touko to stare after her, her stomach already starting to twist and tighten. Asahina turned back, cocking her head to one side. “What about you?”

“I--” She nibbled her lip nervously, forcing herself to look back towards the swimmer. “N-no, I-- I have-- I have p-plans. I have to w-work off that s-sugary junk, a-after all.” Asahina rolled her eyes, but Touko missed it, already making her way out, clutching instinctively at her skirt as she tried to hide her trembling hands.

It took a quite a while to track Kirigiri down through the labyrinthine halls of the academy. Touko drifted aimlessly, ducking out of the way of the other students and especially rushing past Togami with her head down, and eventually, finally, found the detective poking about in the storage room behind the physics lab. Kirigiri glanced up as Touko entered, regarding her with her usual cool stare, one eyebrow quirking up.

“Something wrong?”

Oh, of course she knew, she could be so _infuriating._ Touko grit her teeth. “W-why are you t-treating me like this?”

Kirigiri blinked, confusion clouding her face. “Excuse me?”

“You've b-been ignoring me all d-day,” Touko snarled, hands clenched tight. “L-like I was just an a-afterthought. Is that it? I'm just a d-desperate toy that you can t-toss aside when you get b-bored?” The detective seemed to have lost all powers of speech while Touko was just getting started, growing shriller with each word. “I know I'm n-not much to look at b-but you're the one who came on to m-me! Y-you can't just-- _s-sleep_ with me, and then go b-breakfast like n-nothing happened-- you d-didn't even w-wait for me!”

“Touko, I'm not ignoring you.” She sounded genuinely apologetic, and took a step forwards-- and Touko stepped back, hackles still raised, spitting venom with every word.

“I'm not s-surprised you're ashamed of m-me, but I n-never took you for a _liar.”_

Kirigiri froze for a moment, shock and pain flashing across her face, raising her hands automatically. “Touko--”

“D-don't,” she hissed, cringing back, ripping her glasses off her face and furiously swiping away tears. “I s-should have known better, y-you're just like everyone else-- I'm so s-stupid--” She pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes with a frustrated whine, a dull ache building low under her thoughts-- and she flung herself backward from Kirigiri's hesitant hands, shoulders thudding painfully against the wall, a desperate screech of “Don't t-touch me!” interrupting her rapidly shallower breathing.

Kirigiri held up her hands, a fleeting look of anguish twisting her features before she settled back into her mask. She kept a respectful distance, helplessly watching as Touko shuddered, whined, doubled over and sank into a crouch-- she felt the dizzy twist in her brain and tried to quell the static-- her breathing was too fast too fast too fast not enough air she was suffocating--

“Touko,” she spoke, slowly, gently, “you are having a panic attack. I'm going to talk you through this, okay?”

She hated herself for nodding, latching on to the anchor of her voice.Kirigiri knelt down before her, voice as soft and smooth and cool as river stones as she spoke. “Count to six as you breathe in through your nose.” she tried, gasping, onetwothreefourfivesix “And again as you breathe out through your mouth.” onetwothreefour fivesix “Good,” came the voice, gentle as rain, “again, in--” jagged hitch in her lungs onetwo threefour fivesix “--out.” a choked whimper onetwothree four five six “Very good, once more, in,” she reached blindly and felt cool leather slip into her hands, one twothree four fivesix, “I'm right here. Out.” a gentle squeeze of reassurance, one two threefour five six, “Just breathe with me. In,” she traced the little metal studs under her fingers and let the cold penetrate her skin, one two three four five six, “Good, Touko. Out.” one, two, three, four, five, six, and she was Touko again, waves receded and breathing slowly, and she opened her eyes and met violet mirrors.

“I'm s-s-sorry,” she rasped, uselessly. Kirigiri shook her head.

“You don't have to apologize.” Tone calm and controlled, as always, but with an edge of exhaustion and pain underneath it all, “It's not your fault.” She started to withdraw, but Touko clutched her hands tight and terrified, so she settled down to sit against the wall as Touko scooted beside her.

“S-so... why did you...” Her voice still trembled, and she ducked her head shamefully as Kirigiri glanced at her, trying to hide her tears. “I-- I m-mean-- you d-didn't have to help m-me.”

Kirigiri shook her head immediately. “I wasn't going to leave you like that,” she said, as though it were an irrefutable truth, as certain as she was when she presented evidence in the trials.

“E-everyone else does.”

Kirigiri was quiet for a while, lacing her fingers with Touko's, sadness in her distant gaze. “I'm sorry.”

“It's o-okay.”

“No, it isn't.”

There was a pause before Touko felt brave enough to ask, “W-were you really n-not ignoring me?”

“No,” she answered softly, “I wasn't. I didn't want the others noticing something different, I thought you'd be upset if they pried.”

“O-oh.” Touko leaned against her hesitantly, giving a tiny shake of her head. “I-- I s-should have known.”

“No. I should have talked to you before I left.” She looked exhausted, frustrated with herself. “I didn't think.”

They sat quietly, breathing under fluorescent lights, until the speakers buzzed to life to announce Night Time. Kirigiri pushed herself to her feet, and reached down to help Touko up along with her. “I'm s-sorry,” the author murmured, brushing dust off the back of her skirt, “you w-wasted a whole d-day with me--”

“It wasn't a waste.” Kirigiri's reply was immediate, firm, and Touko flushed.

“W-well...” She clicked her nails together, swayed uncertainly. “G-good night, then.” She shuffled a few steps backwards before thinking better of it, and rushed forward to give Kirigiri a quick but grateful hug before fleeing the room.

“Good night,” Kirigiri murmured after her, with the ghost of a smile.

 

///                                                ///

 

Touko didn't come to breakfast the next morning.

At first no one seemed to notice. She often came in late and she hated having attention on her. It wasn't until every other student had arrived, and they'd started to eat, that Naegi had glanced around with a look of concern, murmuring, “Hey, aren't we missing Fukawa?”

“Yes,” Kirigiri answered. “We are." 

“Hey, Togami.” Naegi twisted around in his seat, peering back at the irritated heir. “Have you seen Fukawa this morning?”

“No, thank god,” Togami groused, sipping at his coffee. “The last few days have been blissfully peaceful without that repulsive dog tailing me.”

Kirigiri's sharp eyes rested on him for a moment, but he didn't notice, or pretended not to. Naegi ruffled his hair, glancing around at the rest of the group. “Has _anyone_ seen Fukawa?”

There was a chorus of no's from the assembled students. “Perhaps she is simply late,” Celes suggested, smiling icily, “as usual.”

“She's not usually _this_ late,” Naegi muttered worriedly, but settled into his chair and gnawed at his toast. Kirigiri ate sparingly, spending most of the breakfast watching the other students, waiting for a flicker of anxiety or a poorly chosen word. Just in case. She hoped it was just in case.

By the time everyone finished an icy pit of dread had settled firmly in her stomach. Naegi pushed away from the table with a hum, meeting her eyes with a knowing, worried stare. “I'm going to look for her,” Kirigiri said softly, “on the third floor.” Naegi nodded.

“I'll check the first. Maybe she's just sick and sleeping in?”

“I will patrol the second floor,” Oogami rumbled, and Asahina nodded firmly.

“Yell for help if you need it,” Naegi instructed, before splitting off, and the rest soon followed.

She found herself taking the steps two at a time and stalked through the third floor halls with her heart in her throat. As she swung around a corner and spotted the familiar silhouette she felt a surge of relief that almost immediately fizzled as she took in the whole figure. The body language was wrong, all wrong--

“Genocider Syo.” She whirled around at her name.

“Heeey!” That nightmarish shark smile gleamed in the low light. “Just the girl I wanted to see! Kirigiri, right? Hey, Kiri-chan, KG, buddy, pal,” she chattered conversationally, swaggering over to the detective, “listen, I owe you one, yeah? You and Ma-kun really _killed it_ at the trial!” She cackled at her own macabre joke, leaning back, tongue lolling crazily before lunging forward into a predatory slouch. “I mean, it was a sloppy fucking copycat, but hey, you still must've studied up on my work! I'm touched!” Her unsettling grin took on a cruel twist. “Plus, you're hanging out with little miss Gloomy, and that's an act of fucking charity if I ever heard one.”

“I was happy to help Fukawa at the trial,” she replied pointedly, meeting the killer's deep red eyes. “And I am happy to spend time with her.”

She took a few steps closer, smirking as Kirigiri found herself backing up automatically. “Listen, Genius,” she drawled, cavalier as always, “I'm not trying to get in your way, alright? I think it's real sweet that Gloomy's found someone just as fucking boring as she is.”

Kirigiri stiffened, and Syo must have seen it, because her toothy grin got even wider. “What, did you think your little high-school romance was a big secret? Just because we don't share memories, you think I can't tell when Touko's got a fucking crush? _Please!_ I'm almost hurt!” She laid her free hand over her heart, fluttering her lashes. “We're so _close,_ we're practically sisters,” she mewled, adopting a sickeningly sweet tone. “Touko-chan can't hide you from me!”

“I'm perfectly capable of dealing with you,” Kirigiri replied coolly, “if I have to.”

“Oooh,” Syo practially purred, voice low and dangerous, leaning forward with one hand settled on her hip as the other twitched and spun the scissors around her fingers. “Are you _threatening_ me, Kiri-chan? Is that what you're doing? Because I gotta tell you-- I didn't see what Gloomy saw in you _at all_ til now.”

Kirigiri kept her eyes on the silver blades, keeping her tone and breathing even as she spoke. “It isn't a threat, just a fact.” Don't show fear, don't show weakness. She was reasonably sure she could hold her own in a fight if she absolutely had to, but Syo was armed.

Syo's eyes widened impossibly for a moment before she broke into raucous laughter. “You _are_ trying to threaten me! Oh, man, that's perfect.” That unsettling jagged grin widened as she lifted the scissors to her mouth and drew her tongue along the side, completely theatrical. “I _love_ the tsun-tsun act!”

Very, very suddenly, those shining blades were plunging towards her face, right towards her eyes, and it was only Kirigiri's many years of study that saved her. The tiny shift in Syo's stance, the slight change in motion-- and immediately, instinctively she dove to the side. The wood split with a dull crack inches from her ear and Syo clucked her tongue in disappointment, grin still fixed in place.

Kirigiri skipped a few steps back, getting distance, bringing her arms up and tucking her elbows in and screaming at herself internally. She shouldn't have been against the wall in the first place, that was the first thing you avoided when your enemy had a blade. And now that Syo was curling her fingers into the handle and trying to pull it free she should have been on the offensive. But-- even with those deep red eyes and sharp-edged smile and inhuman tongue, it was still Touko's body.

It took only seconds for Syo to yank the scissors free and she whirled on Kirigiri again, slashing in wide sweeping arcs, and Kirigiri stepped back and sideways, now very conscious of how narrow the hallways here really could be. The killer hummed, adjusting her grip fluidly, chattering all the while, “Dancing's nice, you know, but don't you think this is kinda cheating?” She snapped her arm forward, going for a thrust to the face, and Kirigiri just managed to twist aside in time-- though a narrow graze split her cheek. “See? So _lewd,_ Kiri-chan!” She crowed, eyes locked on the slow ooze of blood. “Gloomy's gonna get jealous at this rate!”

Kirigiri didn't speak or even bother to wipe her face, keeping her eyes on the scissors. “Aw, come on,” Syo giggled, “this isn't half as much fun unless you play along!” Another wild swipe, too quick to disarm, not a dedicated killing strike, but too close to avoid. She brought her forearm up and felt the blade bite through her sleeve, and Syo wolf-whistled at the slick of blood. “You really do know how to get a girl going!”

Another thrust, this time towards her stomach-- and this time she was ready. She swung to the side, snapped one gloved hand tight around Syo's wrist and _yanked,_ pulling Syo's arm behind her. Syo yipped in surprise, scissors clattering to the floor, and Kirigiri pressed the advantage, snapping two quick, measured kicks to the backs of her knees. Syo stumbled and fell hard, hissing as her knees cracked against the floor, and Kirigiri forced her down with a knee between her shoulderblades.

“Are you done?” She asked, sounding almost bored despite her pounding heart.

“K-Kyouko,” she sniffled, and Kirigiri froze.

It only took that moment for Syo to twist out of her nerveless grip and swipe at her face with a fresh pair-- she just barely got her arm up in time and earned another slice along with Syo's mocking laughter. “You got it bad, Genius,” she purred, looking pityingly over her lenses. “That was _really_ sloppy.”

Kirigiri tightened her jaw, settling back into her defensive stance, wordless again. Syo snorted, trying for another swipe-- and Kirigiri took another slash and snapped her fist towards her face. Syo reeled back, more out of surprise than pain, and brought a hand up to her nose. She touched the trickle of blood wonderingly and broke out into another wild grin.

“You coulda broken Gloomy's nose!” She yelped, sounding almost joyful at the idea.

“You aren't Touko,” she spat.

That got an enthusiastic cackle from Syo. She skipped forward, feinting with one hand before trying to drive the blade home, and Kirigiri promptly avoided it and kicked viciously at her ribs. Syo stumbled back, and Kirigiri followed up with another punch, this time into her belly. Her breath left in a low gasp as she doubled over, and Kirigiri slammed her arm into the wall, forcing her to drop the new pair. Immediately the detective looped one arm around her throat and got her into a chokehold.

“Are you done?” She repeated, loosening her grip just enough to let her speak.

Syo laughed, breathless and delirious, and flicked her tongue up to lap the blood off Kirigiri's cheek. “Baby, don't be like that, we're just getting started!” She kicked back at Kirigiri's shins, but the detective just tightened the hold until she was wheezing and scrabbling at her bloody arms, and soon enough Syo stilled and went quiet.

Kirigiri sagged to the ground with her, the now unconscious girl sprawled across her lap, and took a moment to steady her shaky breathing before calling out for help.

 

///                                                ///

 

Touko woke slowly, with a pounding headache.

She opened her eyes to the glare of fluorescent lighting, a low whine slipping out as she tried to adjust. Even after she was able to handle the light, everything was out of focus-- she realized she must not be wearing her glasses. A shuffle of movement caught her eye, and she could at least discern the vaguely purple person-shape nearby.

“K-Kyouko...?” She asked uncertainly, her throat feeling strangely raw.

“I'm here.” Kirigiri's voice, low and smooth as always-- though sounding noticeably tense, for once. “Oogami is, as well.”

“W-where am I?” She swallowed nervously, glancing uselessly around. She'd lost time. She wasn't where she remembered being. She _knew_ that was never good. “Is-- is e-everyone-- did s-something happen?”

Kirigiri was quiet for only a moment, but it was enough to start Touko's stomach twisting. “You are in the infirmary,” Oogami answered, gravelly voice guarded. Touko felt her glasses pressed into her hands.

One question answered but not the other. Touko slipped her glasses on hurriedly-- and gasped, hands flying to her mouth as she saw her. The detective was sitting stiffly on the chair beside her bed, a narrow cut marring her cheek, both forearms wrapped in bandages. Oogami stood beside her, arms folded over her chest, watching Touko very carefully.

“Wh-what...” she whispered, dreading the answer, “what h-happened?”

Kirigiri shifted uncomfortably, and Oogami spoke for her again. “Genocider Syo attacked Kirigiri,” she explained. “She called for me to carry you here after she incapacitated her. She asked me to wait with her, in case you woke up not yourself.” Touko didn't even bother holding Oogami's searching gaze, feeling too ill to even try to defend herself.

“Oogami,” Kirigiri murmured, “thank you very much for your help.”

“It was no trouble,” She rumbled. “Come to me immediately if anything happens.” She inclined her head politely and strode out, leaving the infirmary silent for several long moments. Touko whimpered and covered her face with the sheet. There was a shuffle of movement, the sound of a chair scooting along the floor.

“Touko--”

“G-go away,” she snapped, and there was a pause.

“Excuse me?"

“You h-heard me,” she snarled, drawing up all the ferocity she could muster, all the practice she'd had pushing people away. “I'm n-not a charity case, I don't n-need your p-pity-- you've got enough adoration f-from showboating through all the c-class trials, d-don't you? A-are you really so s-starved for attention that you n-need to take on a side-project?”

She waited, expecting an angry comeback, a dramatic exit, something-- and there was only silence. She braved a glance towards the chair. Kirigiri sat, hunched and still, long silver hair hiding her face. Touko swallowed, her stomach in knots. She couldn't do this. She didn't want to do this. She had to do this.

Just as she took in a shaky breath to continue, the infirmary door swung open.

“Kirigiri! Fukawa!” Naegi rushed in, sneakers squeaking in protest against the tiles. “Oogami told us-- are you both all right?” He skidded to a stop, eyes widening as he took in the sight of them-- Kirigiri with bandages shielding both arms, Touko with bruises blooming on her face, her wrist, her throat.

Kirigiri stood quickly, the chair scuffing back against the floor as she scrambled away. “Yes,” she murmured, voice tight, “I'm fine. Thank you.” She swept past Naegi as quickly as she could without actually running, heels clicking insistently as she pushed her way through the doors, heedless of Naegi's concerned half-words.

“Ah...” he dropped his outreached hand back, scratching instead at his hair, turning to give Fukawa an awkward smile. “Well-- Oogami patched her up, right? She should be fine. I guess we'll talk later.” Fukawa blinked at him, uncertain if she was being included in conversation or if he was just chattering to himself.

“D-did you want s-something?” She growled, making a show of cleaning her glasses so she'd be able to surreptitiously swipe tears out of her eyes.

“To check on you guys, of course,” Naegi replied, clearly confused, but full of his usual gentle enthusiasm. “You both got hurt, right?”

Touko raised one hand to her face, acknowledging the dull ache for the first time. “D-did we?” she murmured, more to herself, noting the new sheen of purple on the back of one wrist.

“Of course!” Naegi said again, taking the seat Kirigiri had left behind. “I mean, I heard it all second-hand; only Kirigiri was there,” he explained. “But you two-- er, _they,”_ he amended quickly, anticipating Touko's furious glare, “had a pretty serious fight. I think Kirigiri was scared she'd really hurt you.”

“Wh-what?” Touko shook her head. “N-no, you-- you m-must have it w-wrong--”

“I don't think so,” Naegi started, but Touko was having none of it. She flung the blanket away, scooting to the edge of the bed and fixing him with another uneasy glare-- though it faltered as an insistent ache in her ribs made itself known.

“Don't be r-ridiculous,” she snorted. “Why would a-anyone care about _m-me?”_

She tried to hop out of bed and ended up staggering, unable to suppress a small pained noise as her knees buckled. Naegi rushed forwards to help steady her, soft hazel eyes filled with worry. “Hey, woah, take it easy.” As soon as she was sure she wasn't near collapse she squirmed away from him, brushing down her skirt and flushing, but he seemed unbothered. “See,” he added, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “you got roughed up, too, huh? Are you sure you're okay to walk?”

“J-just because I'm u-useless at everything else, y-you think I can't walk to my r-room?” She snapped, just barely concealing another stumble.

“No,” Naegi replied, easygoing as always, “But I'll walk you there anyway, if that's okay? I'd probably worry otherwise.” He offered another awkward grin, and she rolled her eyes and set off as quickly as she could-- but it wasn't so terrible, having him nearby. They walked in silence for a time, Naegi calm and carefree, Touko internally berating herself with every limping step.

“D-do you--” She stopped herself, chewing on her thumb anxiously. Naegi gave her an expectant look, waiting patiently for her to try again. “Do you th-think she--” She whined, shaking her head. “N-never mind.”

“No, it's okay,” he urged softly, “what is it?”

“N-no, you'll just m-make fun of me.”

“Fukawa--”

“Besides, y-you'd probably tell everyone else. I know you all g-gossip about me.”

“No!” Naegi looked genuinely upset at the idea. “Fukawa, I promise, I won't tease you and I won't tell anyone.” She shot him a look. Breaking a promise was unforgivable, but it's not like it hadn't happened to her before. Then again... he hadn't told anyone when she'd dragged him to the library to spy on Togami that one time. She felt ill just remembering it. God, she was so _stupid._

“W-well...” she stumbled again, righting herself with a muffled curse, as Naegi hovered beside her, face full of concern. “I'd... I'd d-deserve it, if you did, I s-suppose.” Naegi frowned at that, and she gnawed at her nails. She wanted _so badly_ to ask for advice, or to run to Kirigiri and beg forgiveness. But she couldn't. Shouldn't. A useless girl deserved to be alone.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “You don't _have_ to talk to me, but if you ever need to, I'm here, okay?” He slipped his hands into his pockets, smiling ruefully. “I mean, I don't have any talents, but I can at least listen. And I won't ever tell anyone else, I swear.”

They came to a stop outside her door, and she busied herself with searching for her keys. She waited uncertainly, half-hidden behind the door, hands wrapped around the edges. “M-maybe...” she started, and gulped. “A-another time.”

Naegi smiled gently, and nodded. “Whenever. Feel better, okay?”

She scoffed at that, and slipped into the darkness of the dorm.

 

///                                                ///

 

Kirigiri was so wrapped up in her thoughts she actually plowed headlong into another person. She scrambled back, hands up in apology, quickly trying to process and already scolding herself. Stupid, stupid, she was missing so much today, she was such a failure. “Hagakure,” she murmured, acknowledging the fortuneteller, “I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention.”

“Hey, that's alright, Kirigiricchi,” he said amiably, “I would be frazzled too!” He adopted a more serious expression as he noticed her arms, looking from them to her face and back. “You okay, though? That looks pretty bad.”

“I'm fine,” she deflected automatically, voice devoid of emotion. “Just a few cuts.”

He frowned, ruffling his impossible mane of hair. “Well, if you say so,” he allowed, tone still concerned. “Where you headed?”

She blinked. Where _was_ she going? Her only goal had been to get away from the infirmary. “I... I was going to my room.” He frowned at that.

“Nah, no way. Getting out of the hospital means ice cream.” He said it with certainty, like one would recite a law. He slung one arm over her shoulder in casual camaraderie, herding her back towards the cafeteria. “I'll even give you a reading, free of charge. C'mon!” She couldn't bring herself to break away, numbly following along. It was probably for the best. He swept her into the kitchen and she took a seat at one of the stools while he rifled through the huge freezer. “Hey, you got a favorite? I mean, I don't think we can special order anything, but...” He pawed things out of the way. “I think we only have matcha...”

“That's fine.” She tried to lean on the counter, forgetting her injuries, and had to flinch away when her cuts protested. Hagakure had turned back, pint in hand, and tried to smile reassuringly as he slid it over to her along with a spoon. He ambled over and hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling as he slouched forward.

“So you threw down with Genocider, huh? I'd never be that brave!”

A flash of pain crossed her face before she managed to get her expression under control. “I wouldn't say it was brave. Just unavoidable.” She stabbed the spoon into the ice cream as she continued. “Besides, I was sloppy about it.”

He rested his chin in his hands, frowning at her. “Dude, you're _alive,_ yeah? It couldn't have been that sloppy.”

She scooped herself a spoonful, staring at her bandages with contempt. “I wouldn't have gotten this badly hurt if I wasn't being an idiot.”

He snorted. “Man, I don't think _any_ of us could have done any better. 'Cept Ogre, maybe, but she's like, on a whole other level, you know?” He flashed her an ironic grin. “I'm the idiot around here. You're, like, crazy smart.” She took another halfhearted bite, trying to keep her expression neutral despite her storming emotions. “Plus,” he added, “crazy lucky, because I owe you a free reading!” He whipped out his ridiculous crystal ball, sitting crosslegged on the countertop, a rogueish, winning smile firmly in place.

“I really don't--”

“Kirigiricchi,” he said, very seriously, “don't you understand the sacred bond between detectives and clairvoyants? It's a symbiosis that's existed since... like, always, man. You gotta let me do you this solid.”

Despite herself, she smiled, small and sad as it was. “Alright.”

“Alright!” He pumped his fist in the air. “Hang on, hit the lights for me.”

She flicked off the kitchen lights obediently, and Hagakure produced a candle from somewhere inside his coat, lighting it and setting it beside him on the counter. He leaned over, peering into the ball, the reflected candlelight casting everything in a warm and otherworldly glow. Even Kirigiri had to admit it was impressive, considering they were sitting at a kitchen counter in the dark like a pair of idiots.

“Hey, it's you!” She rolled her eyes, but he continued undaunted. “You're outside in a bigass storm. You've... turned your umbrella upside down to collect the rain.” She raised a skeptical brow, but he was too focused to see it, humming curiously to himself. He shrugged, and leaned sideways to get a new perspective. “You're soaked through, man, you look like hell-- oh, hey, it's slacking off.” He smiled brightly. “And a sweet rainbow!”

“Fascinating.” He didn't notice (or mind) the sarcastic edge in her tone, just ruffled his wild mane as he thought.

“Well...” He squinted one eye and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, practically a parody of himself. “I'm seeing grief in your future. Which makes sense, in this damn school. But it'll turn out okay, I think.”

“Is this seriously what you do for all your clients?”

“Of course not,” he answered, laughing as he hopped off the counter. “I don't tell them what I see, I just try to interpret it and tell them my predictions. If I told them the visions they'd think I was making stuff up.”

“Of course,” she muttered darkly.

“I'm telling _you,_ 'cause like I said, you're crazy smart.” He winked, scooping up the crystal ball and dumping it into one of many pockets. “You can probably figure out what to do better'n me, right? 'Cause I gotta be honest, I have no idea what to think. But if you stand out in the rain like that, you'll catch cold, yeah? So stay dry, Kirigiricchi!” He gave her a cheerful thumbs up and a winning smile before slouching out of the kitchen, leaving her sitting in silent contemplation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I ship it for real now.
> 
> There will be a chapter 3. Probably more. I love these poor girls. I also really need to write the other kids more often, they're precious. I like to think Hagakure's visions are actually accurate very frequently but he only manages to interpret them correctly 30% of the time.


End file.
